


Arabian Knights

by lil_1337



Series: Aladdin [2]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Fusion, F/M, Gen, Implied Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-29
Updated: 2012-06-05
Packaged: 2017-11-06 21:52:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/423660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_1337/pseuds/lil_1337
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fusion of Disney’s Aladdin and Gundam Wing, blended with an unhealthy dose of my imagination.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Mueller looked furtively around and reined in his horse. It was a dark night, just past the final waning of the moon. Around him the inky shadows seemed to shift; growing and diminishing in ways that played on his already suspicious mind. Unaware of any hoof beats, the soft snort of a horse behind him caused him to startle then spin his already skittish horse in the direction of the noise.

“Do you have it?” Tsuberov’s voice was low and soft but with the sharp edge of excitement underlying the words. Without waiting for an answer, he reached his hand out, his patience gone now that his goal was in sight.

Mueller smirked then drew a small object from an inside pocket. “As you requested my lord.” He stretched out his hand but stopped short of dropping it in Tsuberov’s waiting palm. “We do have a deal, correct? The treasure is mine.”

“Yes, yes.” Tsuberov brushed him off. “The lamp is the only thing I want. Bring it to me and the rest is yours to do with as you please.”

Mueller’s already unpleasant smile took on greed laced glint and he loosened his hold, allowing the object to fall into Tsuberov’s hand. Tsuberov’s fingers closed possessively and he smiled back, the kind of smile that was usually accompanied by jaws that had the ability rip a man to shreds. From somewhere in his robes he produced an object that was the mirror image of what he held in his hand.

He held them up together, allowing himself a moment of gloating pleasure before snapping the two halves into place.

There was a moment of complete silence as if the world had been muted then the now complete golden bug began to glow. First softly, then with a stronger brilliance that lit the night. Its wings flapped furiously as it fought to be free of the hands that held it.  
With a laugh of pure menace Tsuberov let it go, spurring his horse after it. Chasing after it as it zigged and zagged over the sand dunes. Heedless of the horse sweating and heaving below him and focused only on the glowing dot of light, he almost rode past when finally, and without warning, the bug buried itself in the darkened sands.

Once again there was silence and darkness as Tsuberov reined in his horse, causing it to dance nervously. After a long moment in which he thought that there might have been a mistake, the ground began to tremble. He allowed his horse to shy backwards, almost colliding with Mueller when he suddenly appeared over the top of the dune.

Out of the sand rose the head of a great cat, carved from stone. It moved slowly but did not stop until it blotted out the sky behind it, filling the space where once, only emptiness had been. Sand sluiced from its head in a golden waterfall then piled into miniature dunes. As they watched, breath quickening in excitement, its mouth opened to reveal a staircase leading down into the unseen depths below.

Mueller swung off his horse, nervousness starting to break through his bravado. “Are you sure this is safe?” He edged carefully closer and closer to the looming stone maw, expecting it to reach out and snatch him.

“Of course, you fool!” Tsuberov leaned forward in the saddle as if he could force the other man on by sheer force of will.

Mueller eased one foot into the stone cat’s mouth. Letting it rest on the top step. When nothing happened, he shifted the rest of his body through. Growing more confident with each step, he began his decent into the darkness.

“First my lamp.” Tsuberov called after him, eyes glittering with malicious need. “Then anything else you find is yours.”

Mueller acknowledged him with a wave of his hand, still moving downwards. When all that was visible was the top of his, head the statue’s eyes began to glow red. From somewhere deep inside a rumbling voice spoke. “Only the diamond in the rough shall pass.”

The animal’s mouth closed even as Mueller scrambled up the stairs. He ran for the entrance, fear and panic clear on his face as the knowledge he would not be able to escape froze in his brain. As the statue once again slid beneath the sands, his screams of horror tore the night, mixing and melding with the ones of Tsuberov's frustration.

 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The sun began its slow decent, melting into the golden sands of the desert, leaving behind a shimmering glow that faded into the encroaching darkness of night. In the enclosed gardens of the palace a young man wandered aimlessly, seemingly unaware of the shadow that followed behind him at a discrete distance. Prince Quatre sighed and seated himself on a bench, watching as the first stars made themselves known in the velvety darkness. A smiled played across his lips as he recited a childhood rhyme to himself.

/Star light star bright  
First star I see tonight  
I wish I may I wish I might  
Get the wish I wish tonight./

What would he wish for? The son of a sultan should want for nothing. A snap of his fingers and anything he desired would be brought to him. His eyes went to the wall surrounding his private piece of paradise.

Freedom. That was what he longed for. Freedom to wander about the market place, as would any other person in the kingdom. Freedom to choose who he would share his marriage bed with.

He sighed and returned to star gazing. How he envied all the people who lived beyond those walls. Surely they must have the most wonderful lives. Not like him, trapped inside a gilded cage while other people made his decisions and lived his life for him.

He rose from the bench and went to where cage of birds hung from a hook, their sleepy chirps lost in the lush greenery. He took one out and petted it. Stroking across its head and down its back in one long motion.

"You can come out here in the light, Wufei." The words were soft but he knew the boy would hear.

"Prince Quatre."

The young man who stepped from the shadows was the same age as his master, though an inch or two shorter. Chang Wufei was the heir of the Dragon clan and as such he had been raised almost from birth to be the bodyguard of someone high placed in the world. When he was ten he had come to live in the palace and become Quatre's personal bodyguard. As such, he made sure that the prince was never out of his sight.

Tradition and courtesy dictated that Quatre should ignore him, pretend that Wufei did not even exist, but then he had never been good at following tradition. Instead he had set out to make a friend of the severe and stoic boy. It had taken years of work to break him down but Quatre had finally succeeded in turning Wufei into not just his bodyguard but also his friend. Wufei considered this a great failing in himself while Quatre considered it a triumph.

"What do you think of this law? The one that says I have to marry royalty?"

Wufei shrugged, the movement languid and full of bunched muscles. "We must do what our fathers dictate. It is the law and laws were created for a reason."

"But it's not fair!" Quatre turned a bit so he was facing Wufei. "I don't even know any of the princes that have come to ask for my hand." His voice lowered and his shoulders sagged. "Is it too much to ask to want to love the person I marry?"

"No." Wufei paused and stifled a sigh. "But we have a responsibility to our families and our honor. That is more important then what we might desire personally."

Quatre tilted his head and studied his friend. "Even if it means giving up the person you love?" He knew that Wufei had feelings for his older sister Iria. Feelings that she returned but he would never act on because it was not acceptable within the social strata of the palace and their people, both his and Wufei's.

The thought of Wufei, Iria and himself forced into loveless marriages because it was /right/ made him angry and he flung open the cage, shooing the birds out and off on their way. "Well, I won't do it. I don't care who says I have to. I will marry for love or not at all." With a toss of his head Quatre marched out of the garden with Wufei slipping back into place and following him out.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The roof was still warm with the captured heat of the day and Trowa lay back on it studying the sky. He loved this time, not quite day but not quite night either. That moment that bridged the gap between the two and made it seem as if anything was possible.

Heero would be back soon and Trowa hoped that his friend had more luck with getting dinner since Trowa had struck out. All the merchants were watchful today and he had been lucky to evade the guards wandering the streets; stealing something to eat had not been possible. His stomach growled and he ignored it, shifting a bit to ease the ache that was a part of his daily existence. He stilled his movements, listening hopefully for the sound of Heero’s footsteps on the slick tiles.

Off in the distance the last rays of the sun glinted off the stark white towers of the Sultan’s palace. Trowa studied it and wondered what they were doing at this very moment. Probably sitting down to an opulent dinner that would feed him and Heero for weeks.

It must be nice, he mused, to not have to worry where your next meal was coming from. To have people who existed only to serve your every need. What he wouldn’t give to be able to live like that.

“Watching the palace again?” Heero’s soft voice carried from where he stood behind Trowa. Blushing, Trowa had to nod, knowing he’d been caught.

Heero seated himself next to his friend and passed over a heel of bread. Trowa accepted it gratefully and began to eat slowly, savoring the taste and how the feeling of hunger began to ease.

“Bet it's nice inside.” He took another bite and chewed it thoroughly before swallowing. “Bet they never wish their lives were different. Must be the perfect life.”

Heero shrugged, not letting himself be pulled into the all too familiar daydream. “We’ll never know.”

Below them was a fanfare that made Trowa sit up to see what the commotion was about. Down the street was a prancing horse followed by an entourage of attendants. "It looks like the prince has a new suitor."

Heero snorted, not even bothering to open his eyes. "Maybe he will choose this one and we will be able to have some peace again."

Trowa nodded, his eyes following the path of the horse before alighting on the old tomcat that was sitting in the road. He was mostly deaf and partly blind. The way he sat calmly washing himself said that he had not heard the commotion behind him. The glower on the suitor's face as he pulled the whip from his side said he had no intention of allowing the cat to startle under his horse's hooves and spook it.

Without thinking, Trowa was over the side of the roof, working his way spider like down the wall. He dashed into the street, barely managing to raise his arm to block the whip as it came down on the hapless animal. The end of the whip wrapped around his arm and he used the momentum to yank it out of the suitor's hand. Not taking his eyes off the man he picked up the cat and handed it off to one of the merchants that lined the streets to gawk at the visiting royalty.

The man sniffed and looked down his nose at Trowa in obvious contempt. "I am Treize Khushrenada and I will not be treated in such a manner!"

Trowa kept his eyes locked on Treize and languidly shrugged his shoulders. "From where I stand you are a horses' ass."

Treize reared back in indignation, his eyes narrowing. "You were born a street rat and you'll die a street rat with only your fleas to mourn you." He kicked out at Trowa, the tip of his shoe barely connecting with Trowa's arm. Just enough to cause him to stumble back into the crowd. Treize tossed his head and slapped the reins, urging his horse forward.

Trowa shook off the hands holding him and melted into the crowd. He wasn't just a street rat he told himself. No, he was more than that and some day he would prove it!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"I did not come here to be humiliated at the hands of a servant. You will never marry him off as long as that…that…person is at his beck and call." Treize stomped off, the red of his face matching the red of his undergarments that showed through where Wufei's Chinese broadsword had sliced his fancy clothes with deadly precision.

Sultan Winner frowned as he watched his guest go then turned on his heel to find his son. He strode through the palace putting together the words he needed to say. They were quickly running out of royalty who were of the same sexual bent as his son, and his patience in the whole process was about at its bitter end.

He found Quatre where he expected him to be. Sitting in the garden with Wufei lounging against a tree apparently relaxed and unguarded.

He stopped in front of his son, and glowered at him. "Are you responsible for the condition of Prince Khushrenada's clothing?"

Quatre looked up, and a hint of a smirk crossed his face before he schooled his features into a look of wide-eyed innocence. "Is there a problem with them? I'd hoped the vents might let out some of the air and deflate his ego a bit. But sadly, it didn't seem to help."

"You are never going to find an acceptable suitor as long as he keeps intimidating them with that sword of his." Sultan Winner's finger pointed accusing at Wufei who remained unmoved.

Quatre shrugged. "I've not been impressed with any of them so far. A bunch of arrogant, pompous stuffed shirts who are not interested in me, but the titles and lands I hold!"

"You will pick someone, Quatre. Soon! Until then your bodyguard shall be given other duties. Maybe if you do not have him around to encourage this arrogance of yours it will make you more agreeable to the next man. Allah help him no matter who he shall be."

"No! Father! That is not fair!" Quatre was on his feet, his fists clenched. "I will not stand for this."

"Yes, you shall." Sultan Winner gestured to Wufei whose eyes flicked to Quatre and then back before he pushed off the tree to follow the sultan.

Quatre watched his father walk away, trailed by his bodyguard and best friend. He would not tolerate this indignation. It was the final straw. There were too many people who cared not about him but his position and his image. Well, he had had his fill. Tonight he would make his escape over the wall and out into the world. He would find his way and never look back.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A cloud drifted over the moon momentarily darkening the courtyard of the now sleeping palace. A slender shadow separated itself from the main wall of the building and moved cautiously, on tiptoe, towards the outer wall. Cloaked in a swath of dark material over his pristine garments, Quatre looked carefully for any signs of the palace guards before sprinting across the courtyard to hide himself in the protective cover of an old gnarled tree that grew alongside the main wall, its branches stretching out and over.

He studied the lowest branch, crouched and jumped, his finger barely brushing the bottom. Growling in frustration he made to circle the tree, looking for something to climb on, when he was stopped mid step. A firm hand held his sleeve and he turned to glare at Wufei who returned the look with one that held no hint of his emotions.

"Are you attempting to leave the palace, Prince Quatre?"

Quatre's glare darkened and he pulled his sleeve from Wufei's grasp. "I won't stay here and be made to marry someone I don't love." His frown softened and he touched the sleeve of Wufei's jacket lightly. "Please, Wufei, if you are my friend you won't stop me."

Wufei sighed. "You have no notion what the world is like out there. It is not the wonderful place you believe it to be. My advice is stay here where you are safe."

"I don't want to be safe. I want to take risks and really live. See the marketplace and the people." The flare of passion died from his eyes and they took on a look of desperation. "Please, Wufei. Before it's too late."

Wufei shook his head and sighed. "You are determined to do this?" Though it was worded as a question the tone in his voice made it a statement.

"Yes."

Kneeling, Wufei made a sling with his hands and gestured for Quatre to step into it. He lifted up, helping Quatre to reach the low hanging branch and watched as he pulled himself up into the tree.

"Are you going to tell Father?" Quatre's voice was soft but held a hint of trepidation. He wouldn't get very far with the guards dogging his footsteps the minute his feet hit the ground on the other side of the wall.

Smirking, Wufei shook his head. "I was informed by the Sultan himself that I was to not involve myself in your affairs until he said otherwise. It would dishonorable to disobey the master of the house."

Quatre grinned back and climbed farther up the tree, almost disappearing from view. He turned to wave once more before edging out on an over hanging branch and dropping out of sight.

Wufei watched him go, a sense of loneliness that was not completely unexpected filling him. "Good bye, my friend. May your god protect you," he whispered before turning back to resume his duties.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~

Tsuberov smirked darkly at the diamond ring he held between his finger and thumb. The gem caught the light from the lamps that lit the workshop and reflected it back in a rainbow of colors. Carefully, he placed it in slot designed for it at the top of an hourglass. He closed his eyes and began to move his hands over it muttering words for the intricate incantation under his breath.

He opened his eyes and watched as the dark swirling mist that had filled the timepiece began to clear, revealing bit by bit his diamond in the rough. The boy would make his ambitions a reality.

The young man was easily distinguished by a fall of brown hair that covered half his face. His clothes were tattered but clean and the image showed him jumping from rooftop to rooftop with a kind of casual grace. Tsuberov did not recognize the boy but then he didn’t expect to. He made a habit of not having anything to do with the commoners that lived beyond the security of the palace.

Turning to the mesmerized guard who stood silently next to the workbench he pointed to the image and barked. “Who is that boy?”

The guard frowned; a look like he had eaten something unpleasant crossed his face. “Just a street rat, my lord.”

“Yes, yes I know that.” Tsuberov waved his hand impatiently. “Who is he? What is his name and where can I find him?”

“Trowa, my lord and we have been trying to catch him for years. He hangs out in the marketplace and steals the merchants blind.”

Picking up a piece of parchment Tsuberov wrote on it before handing it to the guard. “I want him arrested and I want to be informed when you have him. I don’t care what it takes. Get me that boy and I will reward you.” Tsuberov’s smile curved the corners of his lips but disappeared before reaching his eyes, which remained icy and cold.

 

 

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Trowa scanned the marketplace, taking in the positions of the merchants and weighing the best possibility for being able to snatch a piece of fruit or, if he was extremely lucky, a meat pie. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the movement of someone. Not a merchant, but still dressed in a nicely laundered outfit. The crisp white of the headpiece obscured the person’s features but there was no mistaking the hints of gold that peaked teasingly out to shine in the noon sun. The hand that reached for the piece of fruit was slender and pale and yet decidedly masculine.

Quick as a flash the merchant minding the stall captured the young man’s wrist, snarling in his face. “Do you have money to pay for that?”

The blond frowned. “My name is Prince Quatre. You can ask at the palace for payment.”  
Trowa shook his head then quickly made a decision. Striding forward, he put his hand on the other boy’s arm and smiled at the merchant.

“There you are!” He casually draped his arm around the blond’s shoulders, steering him in the direction he wanted. “I’m sorry, sir. He just wandered off and I’ve been looking all over for him.” He leaned in as if taking the merchant in his confidence. “He’s not right in the head. He’s been known to wander around telling people he is the prince.”

The blond frowned again before understanding lit in his eyes. He turned to the man standing next to him and smiled. “Rashid, bring this man payment.”

The other man began to edge carefully away as Trowa and the merchant exchanged a knowing look. Trowa winked at him and shrugged his shoulders in a 'what can I do' gesture. Carefully he moved himself and the wanna be prince away from the stall, his hold on Quatre’s shoulders guiding him. They had almost melted into the crowd when the merchant’s eye caught on the apple still clutched in Quatre’s hand. Furious at being duped he yelled, “STOP! THIEF!”

Abandoning all pretense of innocence, Trowa grabbed Quatre’s hand and pulled him deeper into the crowd. They zigged and zagged past slower pedestrians in an attempt to avoid the two guards who had taken up the chase. Trowa dodged to the right pulling them into a shadowed doorway. His hand clamped over Quatre’s mouth to keep the boy from speaking and giving them away.

Once the guards were past the two boys slipped from their hiding place and back into the flow of people, this time heading in the opposite direction. Twice Quatre opened his mouth to ask a question but Trowa silenced him with a shake of his head. There would be time enough for that later.

Taking a circuitous route and watching for any sign of pursuit, Trowa led Quatre to the abandoned building that he and Heero called home. He wove his way through the debris that littered the lower area, helping Quatre each time he stumbled. A leap and a hand up had them standing on the old, but still sturdy, floor of the upper level.

Quatre looked around. His gaze taking in the pile of blankets in the corner that made up the boys’ bed. He turned to look at Trowa, his eyes wide with surprise and shock. “You live here?”

Trowa shrugged. “It’s not the palace, Prince Quatre, but it's home. Besides, the view makes up for it.” He turned and walked to the far side of the room where a board leaned against the wall and led up out of sight. He bounded up it and disappeared out of the hole. In a second, he leaned down and waved Quatre over. He reached his hand down offering assistance in navigating the narrow walkway to the roof.

Quatre raised an eyebrow then bounded up the board on his own, a smirk twitching at the corners of his mouth at Trowa’s obvious surprise. He turned and his breath caught in his throat as the city lay spread below him, the sounds, colors and smells of the marketplace a veritable bouquet for the senses.

Trowa smiled and moved to sit on the warm tiles of the roof. He looked out across the streaming masses in the street below him to the palace in the distance. Quatre settled himself next to Trowa and sighed happily, enjoying the breeze on his face. A companionable silence settled over them, each lost in their own thoughts.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“I haven’t seen you around the marketplace before.” Trowa’s voice was casual though there was a question in his tone that hung between them.

Quatre sighed happily. “This is my first time. I’ve always wanted to see it. Be out among the people, but my father wouldn’t allow it.”

“Your father?”

“The Sultan.”

“Right.” Trowa snorted and rolled his eyes. “I forgot, your highness.”

Quatre frowned, meeting Trowa’s eyes solidly. “Are you saying you don’t believe me?”

“Of course I do.” He stood and offered his hand to Quatre. “I should be getting you back now. I’m sure the palace is frantic with worry.”

Quatre ignored the hand and stood, brushing the sand off his clothes. He pulled himself up to his full height, indignation clear in his body language. “I don’t lie.” With that, he turned and disappeared through the hole that led to the lower room.

Trowa shook his head and followed. He didn’t know who this guy was, but he was not about to let him wander unsupervised through the streets of Agraba. He obviously was unbalanced or….the prince, a little voice whispered in the back of his head. He snorted, shaking his head again at himself this time before hurrying quickly after Quatre.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"You there! STOP!"

Trowa didn't bother to look back to see if the directive was aimed at him or not. He recognized the voice of Rashid, the head of palace guards. If it wasn't Trowa they were after he would certainly be an acceptable substitute for the real target. He grabbed Quatre's hand and carefully sped up as he wove his way through the crowds of people, trying to lose themselves in the mass of humanity that crowded the marketplace.

A solid hand grabbed the shoulder of Trowa's tunic and he dodged to the right into a shadowed doorway. They turned to the left then up a flight of stairs, Trowa's feet sure despite the darkness of the building.

"Do you trust me?" Trowa held out his hand as they skidded to a stop in front of an open window.

Quatre frowned then nodded, slowly offering Trowa his hand. "Ye~s."

Trowa grabbed it and pushed Quatre through the open window, jumping after him. They bounced off an awning, then through the collapsed roof of the hovel next door to land heavily on a pile of sand and straw. Trowa was on his feet and pulling on Quatre's hand when a huge shadow obscured the only way out of the ruin. With a grin of pure malice Rashid stepped in and grabbed Trowa by the front of his tunic.

"We have him now," he bellowed to the guards blocking the door behind him, shaking Trowa to emphasize his words.

With snarl of rage, Quatre bolted to his feet, his hands on his hips, legs slightly bent. "Unhand him!"

Rashid snorted, his beefy hand connecting with the side of Quatre's head. "You have too much pride, street rat. You had best remember your place when you speak to the captain of the palace guards."

"And you had best remember yours when talking to the prince!" Quatre removed the drab covering to show his face clearly.

There was stunned silence as the guards all dropped to one knee and Rashid watched his life drain away as he realized he had just backhanded the Prince. Keeping his eyes averted he bowed, anger and fear warring within him.

Quatre let the material drop to the ground and pulled himself to his full height. "I said unhand him." His eyes flicked to Trowa who had remained uncharacteristically passive in Rashid's grasp. The shock on his face so extreme as to be almost comical. The little voice in Quatre's head blew a raspberry at the frozen boy and said 'ha ha I told you I was the prince.'

Rashid fumbled for a minute then stammered. "I'm sorry your highness, but Grand Vizier Tsuberov signed the order for this street…" He caught himself at the last moment and added an ingratiating smile. " This boy's arrest himself. You will have to take it up with him."

"Oh, I shall." Quatre stormed past Rashid, his fists clenching and unclenching in undisguised rage. "I certainly shall."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Psst."

Trowa twisted towards the small barred window as best he could with his hands secured over his head. "Heero?" A sigh of relief escaped and he slumped against the wall. "Thank Allah."

Heero rested his elbows on the ledge and propped his chin on his hands. "Word in the marketplace is you had a run in with our favorite friend, Rashid."

"Yeah." Trowa sighed again, relaxing so that the manacles that chained his arms over his head took more of his weight.

"Rumor also says that it was because of some pretty boy with big blue eyes calling himself Prince Quatre."

Trowa didn't respond, but he didn't need to. His posture and the sadness on his face told the whole story. Silence settled between them for a few moments before Trowa raised his eyes to meet those of his best friend. "He's as beautiful I knew he would be." Trowa sighed and attempted to gesture with his confined arms. "Who am I kidding? Being able to spend an hour with him was worth it."

Heero snorted and pulled out his lock picks. Carefully, he snaked an arm through the bars and began to work at the shackles holding Trowa in place. There was a metallic snick and the restraints slid open. With a halfhearted grin Trowa lowered his arms and rolled his shoulders to ease the ache.

"Now to get you out of here. I think…" Heero's words were cut short with the scrape of wood against stone deeper in the dungeon. "I'll be back," he hissed before disappearing into the night.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Tsuberov! I want a word with you!" Quatre strode across the throne room to stand in front of the Grand Vizier. "There was a boy taken from the marketplace on your orders today. Why was he arrested?"

Tsuberov smile was oily, but his voice managed to maintain a hint of humility. "Yes, Prince Quatre. The Sultan has made keeping peace in Agraba my responsibility and that boy has been harassing the merchants. Stealing their wares from under their noses."

"I want him released now." Quatre was every inch the monarch in training. His tone and stance held no doubt his orders would be carried out immediately.

"There's a slight problem with that Your Highness. You see, when it was determined that he had also kidnapped your royal self, something had to be done." He paused, a Cheshire grin on his thin lips. "Well such behavior can not be allowed. It would give people…ideas."

"He did not kidnap me!" Quatre's rage was about to burn out of control at the injustice of the accusation. "I left of my own free will. I demand you release him at once!"

"As I said Your Highness, there is a slight problem with that. Due to the seriousness of his crimes it was felt that it was in the best interests of everyone if his sentence was carried out quickly."

"What sentence?" Tendrils of fear curled in Quatre's stomach. Surely they wouldn't do anything to Trowa. Not without speaking to him first.

"Beheading."

Quatre's breath left his body in a whoosh as if he had been punched in the stomach. "No…" He swallowed the bile rising in his throat. "Oh, Allah, how could you? He was just a boy." Choking back a sob, he turned and fled the room.

"Not feeling quite so full of yourself now are you, boy?" ssked Tsuberov to the now empty room, a cruel smile spreading across his features as he considered his next move.


	2. Chapter 2

Trowa looked up from where he was resting against the stone wall, his head in his hands. He hadn't been lying when he'd told Heero that the little time he'd gotten to spend with Prince Quatre was worth it. But still, that didn't mean he was ready to give up. He looked up, eyes scanning his cell. There was that sound again, the scrape of wood on stone. He squinted into the darkness that hid the far side of the cell, barely making out the outline of a hunched figure. He kept his voice low, trying not to alert the guards. "Who's there?" 

"Just a lowly prisoner. Like yourself." The voice was gravelly and harsh as befitting the almost skeletal old man who skittered into the hazy light cast through the one small window. Trowa studied the old man skeptically, taking in his ragged garments, hunched back, and the way he leaned heavily on a cane that was little more than a roughly carved walking stick. "So, boy, what are you going to do about your prince?"

Shrugging, Trowa looked away, "What can I do? He's a prince and the law says that only royalty can marry a prince." 

The old man circled Trowa, chortling loudly. "Then we must make you a prince." 

"You can't make a prince." Trowa sighed and shook his head, convinced that the other prisoner had been in the dungeon too long. His sanity had been the victim of prolonged incarceration. "You have to be born one." 

Again the old man chortled, this time showing a mouthful of crooked and rotting teeth. "That's where you're wrong, boy. Haven't you heard of the golden rule? Them that's got the gold makes the rules." He snorted in Trowa's face then skittered back into the shadows much like the human cockroach he was.

"I don't have any gold," Trowa said. "That's the problem." He pointed to himself, gesturing to take in his clothes. "I'm just a street rat." 

"I know where there is gold to be had. A place of riches untold." From an inner pocket the old man drew out a handful of gems. They sparkled and shimmered even in the slight light of the cell. 

Trowa frowned. Years of living on the streets by his wits had taught him that nothing came without a price. He wanted Quatre, more than he had ever wanted anything before and this was a way to get him, but at the same time he was not stupid enough to be a fool that rushed in. "Why are you telling me this?" 

"Because I need a pair of young legs and a strong back to carry it out." The prisoner's expression lost some of its maniacal edge, to be replaced by cunning born of living on the edges of society. "You help me and I'll help you." 

"Even if I was willing you seem to forget something." He gestured towards the solid wall in front of them. "We're in here and the treasure is out there." 

The old man crossed to the wall, for a moment his movements seemingly those of a much younger man. "Things aren't always what they seem, boy." He placed his cane against one of the bottom sections of the wall. As he pushed on it the blocks moved slowly back and then to the side, to reveal a hidden passage. Trowa paused for one brief moment before ducking through the low doorway, and hurrying after the old man. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Why did I agree to this again?" Heero yelled over the howling wind that surrounded them.

"For untold riches beyond your wildest imaginings." Trowa's reply was snatched from his lips, as he dared not turn around to face his friend. 

After two days of wandering the desert, Trowa was tired, sore, and discouraged. Heero had been skeptical from the beginning, but had agreed to assist on the off chance that the old man was not insane and there really were riches, or in case he was insane and Trowa ended up needing help. The second reason he didn't tell Trowa because it was unnecessary. The friendship and resulting loyalty between them was the result of many years together, fighting to survive on the streets. It was unspoken, but understood by both. 

Trowa stumbled, exhaustion beginning to overtake him, as the sound of the wind ate at what was left of his hopes and dreams. The horse he was leading faltered, and then stopped suddenly, pulling Trowa's awareness back out of his self-pity. Around him, the wind began to slow and then stop, filling the air with a sudden silence that was eerily foreboding. The sway-backed horse that was carrying the old man from the dungeon whinnied loudly, snorting as he came to a stop. 

The old man cackled and slid down to stand, pointing to what looked like the stone head of a cat, now visible as sand and dirt began to drift downwards out of the air. "Go on, boy." He pushed Trowa forward with the end of his walking stick, noting how Heero stuck close to friend. That would make getting rid of both of them much easier. Trowa took a deep breath and eased closer to the massive stone head. As he did so the wind began to pick up again, tearing at his vest and whipping his hair around.

The mouth began to open as he approached, showing a dimly lit stone staircase that led down out of view. From the depths, a deep voice rumbled out. "Who dares disturb my slumber?" 

Trowa stopped and turned to look at Heero who shrugged his shoulders. Turning back, Trowa cleared his voice. "Trowa. If you have to call me something, you may call me Trowa." 

Again the voice rumbled. "You may proceed. Touch nothing but the lamp." 

Trowa lifted his foot to take the first step into the cavern when the old man's voice cut through the wind. "Remember, boy. Bring me the lamp and you shall have your reward." 

Trowa's eyes met Heero's and a small smile curved the corners of his lips before he turned back to face the task at hand. Squaring his shoulders, he ducked under the low handing roof and disappeared down the stairs with Heero right on his heels.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Prince Quatre sat on the edge of the fountain, staring out at the courtyard. It seemed impossible that only yesterday he'd been in this very same place. Nothing had changed. The tree he'd climbed with Wufei's help, the one adjacent to the palace wall, was still there. The birds in the trees, cooing and singing softly, were no different than how they had been yesterday or the day before. 

The only thing that had changed was him. Yesterday he had been a spoiled selfish brat who thought only of his own wants and wishes. And today. He paused, choking back a sob that threatened to break through. Today a boy was dead and he was completely to blame for it. 

All he had been guilty of was helping Quatre, helping him and trying to be his friend. And for that, he had lost his life to the executioner's blade. Struck down in the beginning of his life because he was stupid enough to reach out to the wrong person. In the back of Quatre's mind a little voice whispered, changing stupid to kind. That was the boy's fatal flaw. There had been a bright spark of intelligence, not only in his words, but also in the fire that had danced in his green eyes.

To be taken without warning and executed without trial at the whim of someone like Tsuberov. That was an unbearable ending to a life of such promise. When he was Sultan things would be different Treatment of this kind would not be allowed to happen. He would change things. His fists clenched and his normally sweet features turned dark. The first thing that would change would be the Royal Vizier. For the life of him Quatre couldn't understand what it was his father saw in Tsuberov, and if he had any doubts, this incident had erased them completely. 

If only he was Sultan now. He would be able to do something about this injustice. Quatre paused; he might not be the Sultan, but he certainly was acquainted with who was. Father was always saying he needed to pay more attention to how the country was run and had welcomed any input Prince Quatre had offered in their talks. Maybe it was time to go speak to him. His father, while strict, was also a kind man and surely this type of thing was not something that he would approve of. 

With a plan firmly in mind, Prince Quatre stood, determined to see it through to the bitter end. He might not be able to fix what had happened, but he would make sure that no more smiling green eyed boys suffered for the crime of kindness. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Trowa felt like he had been walking for hours, though it was probably closer to just a few minutes. All around him was the glow of golden treasure. Between what he and Heero could carry, they would be rich beyond their wildest dreams. So why was he still walking? Looking for a ridiculous lamp? Because he promised the old man and when Trowa gave his word, he kept it. He might not have much in the way of worldly riches, but he had his pride and that was something no one could take from him. 

He was deep in thought when Heero grabbed his arm and pulled him up short. There, hanging in the air just a little off to the side of them, was a carpet. It was covered in a complex pattern of diamonds and starbursts in rich blues, reds and whites and was fringed and tasseled with glossy golden wool that shimmered seductively in the lamplight. 

"It's following us." Heero's words though pitched low sounded eerily loud in the oppressive silence. 

Trowa frowned and shook his head at his friend. "It's just your imagination." Ignoring Heero's glare, he continued on. His mind drifting back to thoughts of Prince Quatre even as he scanned ahead of him for any sign of the lamp that was his goal. 

Several minutes passed in silence before Trowa again felt a pull on his arm. Following the direction of Heero's finger, he spotted the carpet floating in the air. Frowning, he started walking again, his eyes locked onto the tapestry as it matched their progress. 

There was a slight cough and Trowa turned to Heero, taking in the raised eyebrow and 'I told you so' look. Trowa bowed his head slightly in apology before turning his gaze back to the carpet. "What do you think it wants?" 

Heero shrugged. "It seems more curious than dangerous." 

Trowa reached out his hand and in the soft soothing voice that had tamed stray cats and captured more than one young lady's heart, he called to it. "Come here. We won't hurt you." Hesitantly, the carpet flew closer, until the tip of one tassel was just barely touching Trowa's hand. Heero and Trowa exchanged a grin, each coming to the same conclusion. "Can you help us? We're looking for a lamp." 

The carpet made a gesture that looked almost as if it was saluting with one of its tassels then shot off like a streak. Heero and Trowa stared after it, mouths hanging open. Almost immediately it was back, wrapping around them and making complex wave patterns in the air. The two boys grinned at each other and set off after the carpet that was now floating ahead of them setting a comfortable pace. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Father?" 

Sultan Winner looked up from the papers spread on his desk and nodded to his son. It wasn't often that Quatre came to see him in his study. What ever was on his mind must be serious. "If this is about Wufei. The answer is no. You must learn to fulfill your duties, Quatre. That is part of being about a Sultan." 

Quatre shook his head, sadness and determination mixing on his face. "No, Father. It's about Tsuberov." The boy's voice dropped and the Sultan had to lean forward to catch the soft words. "Oh, Father. He's done something reprehensive." 

The Sultan gestured to one of the large cushions that littered the room and got up to come around his desk. He settled himself across from his son, taking a moment to arrange his heavy robes. "What exactly has he done, Quatre?"

Quatre cleared his throat as he gathered his thoughts. "There was a boy in marketplace who helped me." Seeing the frown on his father's face, Quatre pushed on. "He did not know who I was, Father, and he had nothing to do with me running away. That was my idea alone. This boy did nothing wrong." Quatre paused, swallowing his sadness and anger, trying to keep his voice level and respectful in the presence of his father. "Tsuberov had him arrested and…"Quatre's voice faltered and his fist tightened on his robe. "He had him beheaded. He was convicted, sentenced and executed without even asking me what happened!" 

The Sultan frowned, not the least bit happy with what he was hearing. "Are you certain of your facts, Quatre?" 

Quatre nodded. "Tsuberov himself told me." 

Rising from the pillow, the Sultan gestured for Quatre to do the same. "I think perhaps we should go speak with Tsuberov." 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Heero trailed behind Trowa through the stone archway and out onto a long flat ledge that led up to a pool of inky water. The carpet floated right at the edge of the water, one tassel pointing to the spire of rock that dominated the island in the center of the pool. Leading out to the island from where they stood was a series of meandering stepping-stones. 

Without turning back to look at Heero or the carpet Trowa gingerly put a foot on the first stone then the second. Reassured they would hold him, he leapt forward, gracefully jumping from stone to stone, until he reached the island. Heero sighed and turned to walk back towards the wall. It was going to be a while before Trowa reached the top of the rock and he might as well make himself comfortable. 

He leaned back against the wall, the stone rough against his back, watching Trowa's slow decent up the side of the rock. When the other boy reached the top and gathered up the lamp, Heero let his eyes drift, scanning the area they were now in. Off to his right was a small pile of treasure that somehow he had missed before. The practical side of Heero weighed out the risks. Trowa had the lamp and there was no guarantee that the old man would actually give them the riches he'd promised. Judging from his tattered clothing and sway backed horse, he didn't have any more wealth than the two of them. 

It was only a small amount of the huge treasure that filled the inside of the cavern. Some golden trinkets and a few gems. It wouldn't even be missed by whoever owned the rest, but to him and Trowa it could make the difference between life and death. They would be able to live for a long time off of those few small things. Not only live but also pay their way. No more stealing and running from the guards for a loaf of moldy bread.

Casually, he slid down the wall, and with one motion of his hand, scooped up the glittering items, slipping them into a pocket on the inside of his robe. Almost immediately a growling sound filled the air, echoing off the rock and inside his head. 

"You have touched the forbidden treasure! For this crime you will never again see the light of day!" 

Overhead the cracks began to appear, raining rocks and sand down on him. Covering his head with one of his arms, Heero fished out what he had taken and threw it back on the ground, but to no avail. The cavern continued to shake, debris flying wildly through the air. Heero eased back towards the archway they had come through, only to hear it crack and then watch, as it collapsed in on itself, blocking all but a small opening at the very top. Without thinking he ran forward, jumping from one stepping-stone to another as he had seen Trowa do. He was almost to the middle when the water began to churn and boil, somehow transforming from inky blackness to red-hot lava. He ran forward again, lifting his head in time to see the stone closest to the island explode and disappear. Looking back, he was horrified to see the same thing happen to the one near the ledge he had been standing on. Desperately he looked around, searching for some way to escape what would no doubt be an excruciating death. 

Something brushed his hair and he looked up as one of the carpet's tassels floated over his head. 

"Grab my hand." Trowa was laying flat on the rug, one hand reaching down. 

Heero grabbed for it and scrambled up as the rock under his feet burst in a shower of sparks. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The indignity of being degraded from personal bodyguard of the royal prince to guarding the chambers of the princesses would have been more than Wufei could bear if it was not for the fact that he was now not only able to, but also required to, watch Princess Iria. He kept his feelings for her hidden deep inside, the knowledge of their existence known only to Prince Quatre and the princess herself. 

At times like this he wondered if it would be easier if the princess did not return his feelings. If he knew she loved another and would be happy as a wife then Wufei could accept that. It was the knowledge that she cared for him haunted his thoughts. If he were royalty and not a mere bodyguard she would certainly have accepted him as her husband. 

His eyes scanned the chamber, taking in the princesses playing music, or gossiping in small groups. His gaze alit on a small brunette head, bent studiously over a book and he smiled to himself. Not content to just lie around and wait for her father to choose her a husband, Iria spent her time studying the medical texts that she had cajoled him into supplying for her. Sultan Winner was an indulgent man where his daughters were concerned and Iria in particular, since she was his favorite. She was older than the prince by only a few years and shared with him the same mother, a British woman captured by bandits and rescued by the Sultan. Sadly she had died in childbirth with the prince. Iria had told him once that she remembered very little of her mother except that she used to sing lullabies and had a beautiful voice. 

Wufei's memories of his mother were equally sketchy, since he had been taken from her when he was barely old enough to walk, to begin his training. Not that he felt any true remorse for the loss. Bodyguard to the royal prince was a position of honor and he elevated his clan through his selection and loyal service to the Sultan. He squared his shoulders proudly. This is what he was trained for. What he was born to do. Ideas of friendship and love were romantic folly for others to indulge in. He would not let such notions allow him to let his guard down again. He would serve out his punishment and when the prince finally accepted one of his suitors Wufei would be returned to his rightful place. 

Again he scanned the chamber, vigilant for any signs of danger or unrest. This time however, when his eyes flicked over the figure in the corner, they were met with a pair of soft blue ones that peeked out at him from under a mass of light brown curls. They held his for a moment before dropping demurely as pink lips curved upwards into a smile. He felt a matching smile grace his stern features and sighed to himself, knowing that no matter what vows he might take one look at her and he was lost. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

The carpet swooped off, flying through the opening in the archway. Heero and Trowa both barely had time to duck their heads to avoid banging them on the low hanging roof. Down the tunnel they had recently walked up it flew, dodging right and left, up and down, to avoid the flying rocks that threatened to render the passageway impassable. The rumble of moving stone and shriek of rock against rock filled the air with a level of sound that made conversation impossible. 

The two boys lay flat on the carpet, content to just hang on and pray that they might actually survive. It required no direction from them which was good as neither one knew where he was, let alone how to find the way out. The carpet rushed at what appeared to be a solid rock wall, turning at the last moment and flying parallel to it and straight up. Far ahead, Trowa could see a square of light that grew larger as they neared it. He could make out the part of the staircase they had come down, now ending abruptly in mid air before falling down to the floor far below them. 

They were almost there now, the steps below them and just a bit farther. There was a rumbling, deeper and more menacing them before and Trowa felt the carpet snatched from beneath him as a huge boulder fell from the ceiling, landing on the edge of the rug and pulling it down with the massive stone. Trowa leaped, desperately, into space, his fingers barely catching hold of the last step. He hung there, breathing heavily and wondering what the hell he was going to do now. The weight on his legs told him Heero had managed to make the jump also and was clinging to him as he was to the ledge. Above him, in the gloom of the doorway the old man appeared. Hand gnarled and bent as he reached for Trowa. 

"The lamp! Give me the lamp!" He kept his hand just beyond where Trowa could grasp it. 

"Give me your hand. I can't hold on much longer." 

"NO!" The old man's voice rose in pitch, anger and greed coloring it. "First I must have the lamp." Trowa could feel Heero shifting as he climbed up him to lever himself up onto the stair. Letting go with one hand, he reached inside his vest and brought out the lamp. He couldn't see what was so special about the dingy and battered thing, but if that was what it took to get them out, he would hand it over willingly. 

The old man took the lamp and stowed it in his robes, chortling with glee as he did so. Trowa reached out with his free hand. "Give me your hand, I can't hold on much longer." 

A dagger flashed in the dying light and old man's eyes narrowed, glinting dangerously. "I shall give you a hand. To your final resting place." The dagger slashed down and at the last minute stopped in front of Trowa's eyes. Heero's hand held the old man's wrist immobile in a firm grip. While Trowa had argued with their employer, Heero had managed to work his way to the side where the stairs had crumbled, but enough pieces remained to allow him to pull himself up onto the last intact stair. 

One hand on the old man's wrist and another planted firmly on the filthy robe that covered his chest, Heero pushed backwards, shoving his captive out of the entrance way and onto the sand behind it. He turned back to Trowa, leaning forward to help pull him up to safety. 

Behind him the old man sprang to his feet, much spryer than would be expected for someone who for all appearances required the use of a cane to walk. He slipped in behind Heero and planted both of his hands on the young man's shoulders pushing him forward and unbalancing him so he teetered on the edge before going over, taking Trowa with him. 

Horrified, Trowa felt himself falling, the sound of cackling in his ears and the small square of light that represented hope disappearing in a flash. His arm grazed a rock wall and he felt a sharp stab of pain on the side of his head before the world went dark. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Tsuberov pulled the wig from his head and threw it on the ground. It had worked, as improbable as the plan had seemed. It had worked! Maniacal laughter burbled from his lips, a cruel smile carving out a place on his craggy face. He had the lamp and that street rat was gone forever. No one could stop him now. No one! His dreams of world conquest would finally come true. No more bowing and scraping to a man who was not fit to be Sultan or putting up with the contemptuous looks from his son. No, Tsuberov would make them bow and worship him in the manner he deserved. 

Lines of lightning crackled around the face of the stone lion and as he watched, it sank once more, disappearing below the sands. For a moment there was an eerie orange glow that illuminated the ground from below, disappearing completely in a huge shower of yellow and red sparks.

Eager to put his plans into motion he opened his robe and plunged his hand into the hidden inner pocket. Instead of the warm metal he was expecting his fingers felt only the rough material. No, that couldn't be right. Frantically he patted himself down, checking and rechecking all his pockets. It was gone. The lamp was gone! 

He sunk to his knees, deflated as his dreams once again slipped through his fingers like the sand swirling around him. It was real; he'd had it in his hands if only for a split second. Something had snatched it from him once again. Throwing his head back he howled, long and loud. His anger and frustration lost to the sound of the wind.


	3. Chapter 3

Trowa opened his eyes slowly, giving them time to adjust to the dim lighting in the cavern. Looking up into the gloom overhead he sighed They were trapped. He sat up slowly, holding his head as he did so, spotting Heero sitting nearby watching him carefully. 

"How are you feeling?" Heero's words echoed eerily in the silence of the cavern. 

Trowa moved his head gingerly from side to side, smiling a bit as the headache eased. "Like someone dropped a ton of rock on me." 

Heero laughed softly and nodded. "That is about what happened. Fortunately the carpet was able to get loose and catch us or we'd both be with Allah now." 

Turning to look at the carpet, Trowa dipped his head in a small bow, graciously acknowledging the rescue. The carpet waved a tassel somewhat flippantly and collapsed back over a rock that lay in the middle of the room, managing to look lazy and shy at the same time. "We're trapped now." Trowa shifted, resting his head on his arms and sighing. "We don't even have the lamp so no one is going to come looking for us." 

"Don't be so sure." Heero smirked and pulled the dented lamp from inside his robes before handing it to a stunned Trowa. 

"But how? I gave it to that old man. I saw him put it in his pocket." 

Heero's smirk widened and he did an exaggerated shrug. "I guess being a thief does pay off certain rewards."

Trowa's eyes dropped to the lamp in his hand and he turned it several times, studying it as he did. "I don't understand what anyone would want with this thing. It's old and in need of polishing." Absently he rubbed at the side of the lamp, attempting to remove some of the dust that had settled onto it. Almost instantly the lamp jumped in his hands and he had to tighten his grip to keep from dropping it. Again the lamp shook and jumped, as if possessed and a thick cloud of black smoke began to pour out of the end. 

As he watched it congealed and formed into the shape of young man about Trowa's age. He was a little bit smaller and had a long braid of brown hair that hung down his back. His clothes were like none Trowa had ever seen; black and fitted close to his body. His eyes flicked to Heero who was unabashedly studying the new comer. 

The young man rolled his head and sighed happily. "That damn thing is just too cramped. Now what can I do for you guys?" 

Trowa frowned, shaking his head as if to clear it. "I'm sorry. Who are you and where did you come from?" 

"The lamp of course." The young man bounced on the balls of his feet, his gaze scanning the cavern. It alit on the flying carpet and he grinned happily. "Hey, buddy. How ya been?" He held out his hand to high five with one of the rug's tassel. "Looking good there." 

"You come from the lamp?" Trowa shook his head. "I must be dreaming or maybe I haven't woken up yet." 

"I'm real, buddy." The young man shook his head, the braid whipping around him like a striking snake. He grinned and made a sweeping bow towards Trowa as he did so. "Allow me to introduce myself. Duo Maxwell, Genie of the lamp, at your service. And you are?" 

"Trowa." Trowa couldn't help but grin back. He gestured to where Heero was standing quietly observing the conversation. "And this is Heero." 

"Well then, Trowa." Duo paused, frowned then shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose I should call you master since technically you did rub the lamp and wake me up, but well I was never good with the whole master servant thing. I'd rather keep things friendly." He winked as the realization of what was happening began to sink into Trowa's brain. "So then, Trowa. You have three wishes. With the standard exemptions of course." 

"Exemptions?" Trowa's brain chose that moment to kick in, the implications of what was being offered to him laid out in front of him in Technicolor with Dolby sound. 

Duo nodded, raising a finger, as he ticked them off. "First, I can't kill anyone. Hey, I'm a genie, not the god of death or something. Second, I can't make anyone fall in love with you." He batted his eyes at Heero and grinned. "Do I look like cupid? There is no way you are getting me into a diaper. Third, I can't bring anyone back from the dead. That's just lame. Beyond that name your poison and it's yours. Oh, and no more wishing for more wishes. Three's your limit." 

Trowa studied the boy in front of him then shrugged. "You have limitations? How can I be sure you'll even be able to deliver on my wishes?" He turned a bit, winking to Heero. 

"True." Heero's voice held a slight smirk. "We've already been fooled once today. Why should we believe what this boy…" His eyes blatantly ran up and down Duo's body, undressing and then dismissing him. "Tells us?" 

"Boy?" Duo's eyes narrowed and smoke began to pour from his ears. "I'll have you know I've been alive for thousands of years and I'll be alive for thousands more." 

Trowa nodded. "I have no doubt of your age, Duo. It's your powers I wonder about." 

Heero nodded sagely, sighing. "I doubt very much that he would even be able to get us out of this cavern." 

Duo blinked, his jaw working angrily. "Let me get this right. You wake me up by rubbing on my lamp and then you give me crap about my powers? Look, buddy. Get your butt on that carpet because we are getting out of here!" With that, Duo plopped himself down on the carpet, glaring at first Trowa and then Heero as they scrambled to join him. "Boy!" Duo snorted loudly as he snapped his fingers and pointed. "Take us out of here, buddy." 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"You asked for me, your highness?" Tsuberov oozed up the marble stairs at the base of Sultan Winner's throne, making sure to stand one step below the dais. His head was bent in a gesture of subservience that appeared hollow to all, but the most naïve. 

"Yes, Tsuberov. Thank you for coming. Quatre tells me that a boy was taken from the market place on your orders and beheaded." 

Tsuberov's eyes flickered to Prince Quatre who stood tall and proud beside his father. There was no mistaking the malevolence in his pale blue eyes or the determination in the set of his jaw. "Yes, your highness. I was only doing as you requested. Keeping the peace. The boy was a street rat and a known criminal. The city guards were well acquainted with him because of his stealing from the merchants." 

Sultan Winner frowned. This did not sound like the boy that his son had described. Still, the idea of the boy being beheaded without having his story heard grated on him and he was not going to allow this type of behavior in Agraba. "In the future you will carry out no sentences without speaking to me first." 

"Yes, your highness. My deepest apologies, your highness." Tsuberov bowed low and began to back slowly away. "I live only to do as your highness bids me." 

Prince Quatre snorted, disbelief plain on his face. "Don't get too comfortable, Tsuberov. When Father decides to step down and I am Sultan you won't have to worry about doing anyone's bidding." 

Tsuberov nodded, an ingratiating smile plastered on his face. "As you wish /Prince/ Quatre. Until then I have work to do for the /Sultan/." He turned on his heel and strode out of the throne room, robes billowing behind him. 

Once out of the throne room, Tsuberov pushed his way through the dark red curtains that blocked the passage out onto one of the many balconies. From there he could see the whole of Agraba stretched out below him. He leaned forward, hands clenching on the railing. 

This was not acceptable at all. It was quite obvious that Prince Quatre did not share his father's blind spot where the royal vizier was concerned. Once that spoiled brat was on the throne he would be out of a job and possibly missing his head. Tsuberov's hand rose to encircle his throat as if to make sure it was still attached to his shoulders.

If only he had the lamp. With that in his possession Prince Quatre would have been no match for him. Tsuberov cursed his luck, heaping mounds of abuse on the name of the street rat. It was his fault Tsuberov was in this predicament in the first place. He tapped his fingers, eyes narrowing. There had to be a way to make this work in his favor. He had not managed to rise to the rank of Royal Vizier and keep his position without learning how to be cunning. 

If the prince were to disappear there would be questions. But… A sly smile snuck across Tsuberov's face. If he were to marry and then disappear, his grieving spouse would be above suspicion. And as the next in line of succession, the royal husband would be required to take on the duties of Sultan. This could work. He could handle the brat for a few months, even a year. 

Smiling to himself, Tsuberov stepped away from the balcony. Now he just needed to find a way to convince the Sultan. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Duo smirked. With an outstretched hand he gestured to take in the oasis around him. "I think you owe me an apology." 

Trowa grinned, eyes flicking to Heero. "I'm sorry I doubted your powers, Duo. Now about my three wishes." 

"I don't think so. See you already used wish number one that leaves you with two." 

"By my count I'm still at three." Trowa grinned at the genie. "I never actually wished for you to get us out of the cave. That was your decision."

Duo froze, his eyes glazing over as he replayed the scene in his head. When they refocused he raised an eyebrow, amusement clear on his face. "Nice scam, Tro. I'm impressed. That's your one freebie so don't think you're gonna be able to pull it on me again." 

"I promise." Trowa turned to where Heero was leaning against a palm tree, dozing in the sun. "Do you promise too?" 

"I promise." Heero didn't even bother to open his eyes as he spoke. 

Trowa began to pace, frowning and muttering as he did so finally he stopped and turned to face Duo. "What would you wish for?" 

Duo's eyes went wide and he swallowed, "No one has ever asked me that before." He rubbed his hand on his shirt and frowned, looking off into the distance beyond Trowa's shoulder. "It'd be different for me than it is for you. There's only one thing I would wish for." He grinned and shrugged. "What I want isn't important. This is about you." 

"No, I want to know what you would wish for." 

"Freedom." Duo sighed. "The freedom to be my own man and to not have to call anyone master. To be who ever I want to be. Do what ever I want to do. Live my life, maybe fall in love or some such thing. But it is not meant to be." 

"Why not?" Trowa's curiosity was piqued now. He hadn't known Duo long but he felt a sense of friendship and under it he had to admit to a small amount of guilt for tricking the genie.

"The only way for me to be free is for my master to wish it." Duo laughed somewhat bitterly. "Like anyone is gonna waste one of their wishes on me. I'm just the genie" 

Trowa frowned. For a moment he studied Duo then with a nod of his head he made a decision. "I will. After I've used my other two wishes I can use the third one to free you." 

Duo snorted. "Yeah, sure. It's not nice to tease the genie." 

"I'm not teasing." Smiling openly, Trowa thrust out his hand to shake. "I promise." 

Dubiously, Duo accepted Trowa's proffered hand and shook. "Okay, buddy. But if you get my hopes up and let me down it won't be pretty." He rubbed his hands together and grinned. "Now, let's figure out what magic we are going to make for you. What do you want most in the world?"

From under the tree Heero's voice drifted across to them. "Prince Quatre." 

Trowa blushed furiously and sent a glare in Heero's direction. "He's smart and funny. Gorgeous with this blond hair that curls at the base of his neck." Trowa sighed and shook his head. 

"Sorry kid," Duo rested a hand on Trowa's arm, "But I can't make anyone fall in love with you. Remember?" 

"That's okay. Only a prince can marry the prince." Trowa sighed. "He deserves a prince." 

Heero opened his eyes slowly and smirked at Duo. "But you could make Trowa a prince, right?" 

Duo grinned back, rolling up his sleeves. "That, I can do, but only if he wishes for it. Has to be official this time." 

Trowa looked back and forth between his friend and the genie, a slow grin creeping across his face. "Genie, I wish to be a prince." 

"Tro, my friend, it's time to get down to business." Duo interlaced his fingers and stretched his arms to crack his knuckles. "When I'm done with you Prince Quatre won't stand a chance." 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tsuberov walked quickly into the Sultan's office. Now that he had a plan in place he was eager to implement it. "Your highness, I think I have discovered a solution to the problem with Prince Quatre." 

"Oh?" The Sultan looked up from the papers spread across his desk and frowned. "What problem would that be?" 

Tsuberov stepped forward, his best wide-eyed innocent look firmly in place. "Why his refusal to choose a suitor."

Sultan Winner smiled, feeling somewhat indulgent toward his son at the moment. "I'm sure given time Quatre will find someone who suits his particular interests." 

"But your highness, the princesses are getting restless as they are not allowed to marry until the prince has chosen a suitor. Why soon Princess Camellia will be past marrying age. " 

Leaning back in his chair, the Sultan steepled his fingers in front of him. "What is your solution?" 

"Not mine, your highness, but decree by order of your grandfather." Tsuberov pulled an old and yellowed scroll from inside his robes and unrolled it, eyes scanning as he pretended to read it. "It says here that if the prince does not chose a suitor within the allotted time one will be chosen for him." 

"Nonsense. Quatre may be headstrong, but he will come around eventually." The Sultan picked up his pen signaling the end of the interview. 

Tsuberov sidled closer, unrolling the scroll. There's more your highness." 

The Sultan set his pen back down and sighed. "Please continue." 

"If no acceptable suitor can be found for the prince then he will wed the Royal Vizier." 

"You and Quatre wed?" The Sultan snorted softly. "The law very clearly states that only a prince can marry the prince. Besides, Tsuberov, Quatre needs a strong willed /young/ man who is not afraid to point out the error of his ways. I'm sorry, but the very idea is laughable." The Sultan picked up his pen and began to shuffle through one of the stacks of papers on his desk, effectively dismissing his advisor.

Tsuberov glowered at the man's bent head, his lip curling in disgust. The eyes in the cobra head of his staff began to glow a deep red and he repeated in a singsong chant. "The prince shall marry the royal vizier." 

The Sultan's eyes took on a glazed look and he mumbled, "The prince shall…" From the street there came the sound of a flourish of trumpets. The Sultan shook his head and looked up at Tsuberov, confusion plain on his face. "What was that?" 

"I'm sure it was nothing important, your highness." Tsuberov leaned forward, the glow from his staff taking on a darker edge.

"I disagree." The Sultan rose from his chair and crossed the room to step out onto his private balcony. In the distance he could see a large entourage approaching the palace gates. He turned back to Tsuberov who was standing a bit behind and to the side. "This bears investigating." As he brushed past his advisor he paused for a moment, resting a hand on Tsuberov's shoulder. "I appreciate your efforts on Quatre's benefit, but do not despair old friend. I think things might be about to turn around." With that he hurried from the room to greet his visitor.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

Perched atop the head of an elephant which was surrounded by dancing girls and exotic animals was not quite how Trowa had ever expected to enter the gates of Agraba yet here he was. Heero lounged behind him straddling the animal's neck, a look that was part amusement and part embarrassment on his face. Ahead of them the genie roamed through the crowds, extolling Trowa's virtues. From the snatches of conversation Trowa had overheard he was responsible for the death of hundreds of infidels, had the strength of ten men, was generous to a fault and one look at him was enough to make any man immediately fall in love with him. 

The whole thing was a bit overwhelming and Trowa felt like he was completely out of his depth. But Duo had said the key to winning Prince Quatre was to make a grand entrance and catch his eye. He'd been around for a long time so for the moment Trowa was willing to put his trust in the genie. 

Puffing his chest out and trying to look like he imagined a prince should Trowa waved to the peasants lining the roadway to gawk at him. They certainly seemed impressed. That had to be a good sign. 

At the door to the palace, Trowa stepped off the elephant and onto the carpet, floating down in front of the animal to settle in front of the Sultan. "Prince Triton Bloom, your highness." 

The Sultan smiled brightly and offered his hand, shaking heartily. "Wonderful. We welcome you to Agraba, Prince Triton. May I enquire as to your business?" 

Trowa returned the smile, bowing slightly after releasing the Sultan's hand. "I have heard that your son, Prince Quatre, is of marrying age and is currently accepting suitors."

"Your highness, I must protest on Prince Quatre's behalf. What makes Prince Broom think he is any different from the other suitors who have tried to court him?" Tsuberov pushed his way in, physically placing himself between the Sultan and this new threat to his plans. 

Sultan Winner frowned at Tsuberov and then turned back to Prince Triton, an eyebrow raised in question. "Well?" 

Clearing his throat to stall for time, Trowa's tried to think of how a prince would handle this situation. He put on what he thought was his best confident air. "Your highness, I am Prince Triton Bloom. Once I put my mind to it, I'm sure I'll be able to win the prince." 

"How dare you?" Prince Quatre's voice cut into the conversation. He stood, hands on his hips, next to the doorway he had entered through while the others were talking. "I am not a prize that can be won by a few trinkets and fake smile." Glaring at the three men, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room. 

Trowa felt his heart plummet. Two minutes with the prince and he was already in such a hole he might not be able to ever get out of it. Sighing, he met the sympathetic gaze of the Sultan. 

"Give him some time. He'll come around. I'm sure of it." 

Trowa nodded, sending a prayer to Allah that the Sultan was right. If he failed to capture the heart of the prince there really was not point in continuing with this charade and any other wishes he might make would just be meaningless.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

Trowa paced, his turban tucked under his arm. "He won't even talk to me. Every time I try he just walks away. I don't know what to do. I could use a little help here guys." 

Duo looked up from where he was playing chess with Heero. The board hung in the air between them and the carpet floated lazily beside it, watching with interest as each move was made. "Look, Tro, if you want my advice, I think the only way to really get this guy's attention is to tell him the truth." 

Trowa shook his head, still pacing. "No, I can't do that. If he finds out I'm just some street rat he'll laugh at me." 

Heero moved one of his pieces and smirked at Duo before looking up at his friend. "The ability to make someone laugh is not necessarily unattractive." His gaze met Duo's and he smiled slightly before returning his attention to the chessboard.

"I need to be suave and smooth. Debonair. Sweep him off his feet with my charm." 

Duo grinned back at Heero then sobered. "Be yourself, Tro. That's the best way to charm him." 

"I'm just a street rat, a nobody. He deserves better than that." Trowa settled the turban on his head and smiled, posing for his not so adoring audience. "How do I look?" 

Duo sighed, his eyes meeting Heero's before replying. "Like a prince." 

With a flip of his cape over his shoulder, Trowa grinned then gestured for carpet. "C'mon, its time to pay the prince a call." 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

Prince Quatre sat in his apartments, staring out at the night sky. The mesh curtains that hung over the archway were pulled to the side to let in the evening breeze. He sighed and shifted on the lounge he was resting on. It was times like this that he really missed Wufei. His new guards, while appearing to be nice enough people, would not do more than answer his questions with as few words as possible. Just being in his presence seemed to intimidate them. 

He frowned, sitting up. That sounded like Prince Triton calling his name, but how the hell would he have gotten up here? He walked out onto the balcony following the sound of the voice. Spotting Prince Triton posing by the railing, Prince Quatre glowered at him. "I thought I made myself clear. I do not want to speak to you." 

Prince Triton seemed to crumble in on himself. "I'm sorry, your highness. If you'll please give me a moment to explain." He pushed back his turban and lock of brown hair tumbled loose, falling across his eye. 

For a moment Prince Quatre had a flash of the boy he'd met in the marketplace. The same shy smile, the same brown hair that refused to stay out of his face. No, the boy was dead. Beheaded at Tsuberov's order. He sighed, studying the way Prince Triton's eyes darted around, but did not meet his, as if he was struggling to find something to say." 

"You're very handsome." The words were soft, accompanied by a sigh of sorts and for a moment Prince Quatre wanted to believe them, but he'd been here before and he was not stupid enough to fall for a line. 

Smoothing his robe, Prince Quatre widened his smile and strutted across the balcony. "I'm rich too." 

Prince Triton nodded, seemingly pleased at this sudden turn of events. 

Gritting his teeth Prince Quatre glided forward and rested on hand on Prince Triton's chest. "A veritable first prize when it comes to looking for a husband." 

Again there was a nod and smile. Prince Quatre growled low in his throat and pulled the turban down low over Prince Triton's eyes. "A prize that neither you nor the rest of the self absorbed conceited Princes will ever have. For all I care you can take a leap right off of this balcony." With a final glare he turned and stormed back towards his apartments meaning to send his guards out to have the prince thrown out on his ear.

"You're right." 

Quatre stopped mid step and turned, surprise and confusion on his face."Wha…?"

"I said you're right. You shouldn't have to settle for being someone's prize. It should be up to you to choose who you want to be your husband." Prince Triton jumped up onto the railing. "If you'll excuse me." With a final sad smile he stepped off into empty space.


	4. Chapter 4

"NO!" Prince Quatre ran to the railing and looked over, half afraid of what he would see. There, floating just below the balcony was Prince Triton, completely unharmed. "How…?" Prince Quatre squinted as his eyes adjusted to the dark. Prince Triton drifted up to where he now over the balcony and Prince Quatre was able to see he was standing on a flying carpet. Breathing a sigh of relief, he frowned. "Is that safe?" 

Prince Triton nodded and the carpet drifted down so they were almost nose-to-nose. "Completely safe." He smiled then nervously reached out a hand. "Would you like to go for a ride? Get out of the palace and see the world?" 

"I.." 

Prince Triton smiled again, his hand still outstretched. "Do you trust me?" He tilted his head and again that lock of brown hair fell out from under the turban. 

It /was/ him! Prince Quatre was sure. There couldn't be two boys in Agraba with that smile who used that phrase. Smiling back he took Prince Triton's hand and allowed himself to be helped onto the carpet. 

When they were both seated, it took off, swooping up and then doing shallow dives that led into rolls and more elaborate moves. They tumbled through the air, playing leapfrog with clouds and chasing the lightning bugs. Below them the ground raced by unheeded, and unobserved. 

The first of the fireworks lit up the sky with a brilliant blue that faded into white catching Prince Quatre off guard. He had no idea where they were, but really did not mind. He could feel the carpet descending to land with a gentle bump on the roof of one of the temples. They settled themselves comfortably on the edge, legs dangling off into space, watching as the succession of greens, blues and reds painting the canvas of the sky. 

"So," Prince Quatre's voice was light in an exaggerated attempt to sound casual. "Does the palace look as good from the inside?" 

Trowa grinned. "Better than I thought…" He trailed off, staring nervously at Prince Quatre. 

"You are the boy from the marketplace!" Prince Quatre pulled off Prince Triton's turban, setting loose his hair, which fell in a heavy shock obscuring half the boy's face. He scowled, arms crossed across his chest. "Did you think I wouldn't know?" 

"I can usually blend in where ever I am. I had hoped you wouldn't be able to recognize me." 

Prince Quatre's scowl deepened. "Why didn't you tell me?" 

"I um," Prince Triton shifted nervously "I thought you would think it was stupid. A prince going out into the marketplace in disguise." He grinned apologetically and bumped Quatre's shoulder. 

Quatre could feel himself blushing, warmth and color staining his cheeks. He nodded then grinned back, bumping Prince Triton's shoulder in response. "It doesn't sound that stupid." He studied Prince Triton's face for a moment then sighed happily, moving closer to rest his head on Prince Triton's shoulder. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

All in all it had been a wonderful night Trowa thought, as he lay on his back on the carpet. They were drifting through the air in the inner courtyard, enjoying the quiet after dropping the prince off at his apartments. There was that moment when they were just looking at each other, so close and yet a world apart then carpet had moved under his feet bumping him up so his lips had connected with Quatre's. It had only been for a brief moment, but it was one that Trowa never wanted to forget. 

He floated on, staring at the stars, a goofy grin on his face. Things were finally looking up for him. Quatre liked him and tomorrow he was going to tell his father that he had officially accepted Trowa as his suitor. Yep, for once everything was going his way. 

From out of nowhere four sets of hands pulled Trowa off the carpet, gagging him and wrapping his arms in heavy chains. Trowa struggled, but being caught by surprise and outnumbered he really didn't have much of a chance.

Swinging between two men he recognized as city guards, Trowa was powerless to stop them when they set him down in front of Tsuberov. Unable to do anything, but glower at the man he put all the venom he felt into the look he pinned Tsuberov with.

"Sorry to see you go, Prince Broom, but you have overstayed your welcome in Agraba." His voice was a low silken purr that made Trowa shiver at the thinly veiled malice and self-conceit. Tsuberov's gaze went to his guards and he waved his hand indulgently. "Get rid of him." He smirked at Trowa one last time before turning to walk away. 

The guards hoisted him into the air again, carrying him for several minutes until they reached the edge of a nearby cliff. Below it, after a drop of a hundred feet or so ran a deep river. Laughing the two men swung Trowa between them several times. Counting to three they released their hold, heaving him out as far as he would go before sending him sailing off into the night. 

He hit the water with a loud splash, the cold shocking him as the weight of the chains wrapped around him pulled him down. Struggling, he drifted down to land softly on the sand lined bottom of the channel. His Turban had come loose and floated down to lie a foot or so away. Hidden in its folds was Duo's lamp. Trowa struggled, edging his body closer to the turban and his only hope of survival. 

One final burst of energy and his vision begin to darken around the edges. As he felt himself losing consciousness, something metallic and warm touched his fingers. Praying to Allah, it was the lamp he stroked his fingers across the dented surface before everything went dark. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tsuberov kept his grip on Sultan's Winner's arm firm as he led him down the hall. The glazed expression on the Sultan's face was a testament to his powers of suggestion. The Sultan's will was powerful, but Tsuberov was experienced in what it took to break down the walls of defense. This wasn't the first time he had used mind control to get what he wanted, but if things went as planned it would be one of the last. After he and Prince Quatre were legally wed, the Sultan and his son would meet with a tragic and untimely demise. One that would, of course, be untraceable back to him. 

He knocked on the door of Prince Quatre's apartments then bent to whisper in the Sultan's ear. "You have chosen a husband for the prince. He shall marry Tsuberov." The Sultan nodded woodenly before Tsuberov opened the door, pushing the Sultan before him.

Quatre rose from the lounge he was stretched out on and walked towards his father, smiling happily. "I have something to tell you, Father." 

The Sultan stared blankly past his son, appearing to not even see him. "I have wonderful news for you, Quatre. I have chosen a husband. You shall marry Tsuberov." 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Smoke poured from the end of the lamp and coalesced into Duo, hair loose and dressed in nothing but a towel tied low on his hips. "Someone always rubs the damn lamp when I'm in the shower." His eye caught on Trowa lying motionless on the sand next to him and he boggled. "Hey. Hey, Tro. Come on, buddy, what are you doing here?" 

He grabbed Trowa by the shoulders and shook him, trying to get some kind of a response. "I already gave you one freebie. I can't do this unless it's official. Do you wish for me to save your life?" He shook Trowa, again causing the boy's head to loll forward in the mockery of a nod. Grinning he wrapped his arms around Trowa. "I'm taking that as a yes." 

Propelling them upwards out of the water and onto the nearby riverbank, Duo carefully let go of Trowa. Standing close by as he coughed up the water that was in his lungs. When he could breathe again Trowa smiled weakly at Duo. "Thank you for saving my life." 

"It was my pleasure, Tro." He blushed then draped an arm over Trowa's shoulders as they began their walk back to the palace. "That's what having a genie is for."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Prince Quatre stared at his father, unable to believe what he had just heard. "But, Father, I want Prince Triton. I have agreed to wed him." 

"You shall marry Tsuberov." 

The flat tone of his father's voice made Quatre suspicious and he narrowed his eyes. "What have you done to my father?" 

Tsuberov's smile was slick and oily. "Not a thing, your highness. It was completely his decision. I am as shocked by it as you are." 

Quatre snorted, his fists clenching and unclenching. "I will not marry you! I have given my pledge to Triton and I will marry him." 

"I hate you disappoint you, your highness, but Prince Triton is gone. Fled the kingdom in the dark of night like the scoundrel he is." 

Quatre stepped forward until he was nose to nose with Tsuberov, contempt clear in the curl of his lip and angry lines of his body. "I do not believe you. He wouldn't do that." 

A soft chuckle came from the other side of the room and Quatre whipped around to see Triton leaning against the wall. "I'm glad to hear you have faith in me." He pushed off the wall, walking towards them. As he approached Quatre could see that while Triton appeared completely calm and relaxed, he held himself tensed and prepared for anything. "I wasn't planning to leave. Tsuberov tried to have me killed." 

Tsuberov clicked his tongue sadly, the flat look on his face revealing nothing. "This boy is obviously lying." The eyes in the cobra head on his staff flashed brightly then dimmed back to their usual dull glow. 

"The boy is lying." His father repeated in the same flat monotone.

Quatre watched, stunned as Triton leaped forward, wrenching the staff from Tsuberov's grasp. His chosen suitor slammed it face down against the marble floor, the face disappearing in a shower of sparks and acrid smoke. 

The Sultan shook his head, looking around slowly as if he was waking up from a deep sleep. "Where am I?" 

Triton thrust the still smoking staff at the Sultan. "Tsuberov has been controlling you with this, sir." 

Rounding on his advisor Sultan Winner growled low in his throat. "I trusted you and this is how you repay me." 

"Your highness…" 

"Don't your highness me." The Sultan raised his voice and yelled for the guards that stood right outside of Quatre's apartments to protect him. When they stepped into the room he gestured to Tsuberov. "Lock this man up." 

The guards did not hesitate; each one grabbed one of Tsuberov's arms and began to lead him away. As they did his eyes locked on Triton. A slow smile spread over his face and he began to laugh evilly. "This is not over, boy." There was a flash of light and Tsuberov disappeared in a flash of thick yellow smoke. 

"Search the palace! I want him found!" Sultan Winner yelled at the stunned guards. They turned on their heels and bolted for the main section of the house. "I can't believe Tsuberov was using mind control. He's been one of my most trusted advisors." The Sultan began to pace in short abrupt steps. 

Quatre smiled at Triton. Shifting closer to him as the Sultan continued to walk back and forth in a tight pattern. He reached out and took Triton's hand, tugging gently on it to bring him even closer. There was the sound of a throat clearing and Quatre turned slightly to face his father. 

"Is my mind my still playing tricks on me or does this mean you have finally chosen a suitor?" 

Quatre nodded, raising their intertwined hands. "Yes, Father. I choose Triton." 

"Wonderful." The Sultan beamed, reaching out to shake Triton's hand. "Agraba can use an honest, upstanding young man like yourself as its Royal husband." His smile softened and he hugged Quatre quickly before letting go. "I am very happy for you my son. I'll be leaving now, but I'll make sure word is sent to Wufei that he is to return to his post immediately." 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Safely in his hidden workshop, Tsuberov paced, a malicious grin on his face. Every so often a sound that was the mockery of laughter would escape from his lips. He'd seen it, the battered lamp hidden in Prince Triton's robes. When the boy had handed that useless Sultan Tsuberov's staff, his outer robe had fallen open for just a moment, but long enough for Tsuberov to spot it. 

Prince Triton was merely that street rat Trowa. That explained why Tsuberov had never heard of him before. Well he could have the precious prince; Tsuberov had bigger plans in the works than simply to be the Sultan of Agraba. Somehow that urchin had managed to escape from the cave of wonders with the lamp. Now it was just a matter of taking back what was rightfully his. 

Tsuberov snorted to himself. That boy had no idea of the power he had to command at his fingertips. He could have anything, do anything, be anyone and he threw it away for a chance to marry that brat of a prince. This was proof that not only was the blood of Agraba's royalty getting thin, but that of its peasants as well. Tsuberov smiled; it was time for a new world order and this time he would be the one in charge. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Tro! I just heard the good news." Duo draped an arm over the young man's shoulder. "Word around the palace is you won the prince /and/ the Sultan wants to make you the next royal Vizier." He paused taking in the slump of Trowa's shoulders and his down turned mouth. "For a guy who just got everything he wanted, you don't look very happy. What's the problem?" 

"I don't know anything about being a royal vizier or helping to run a kingdom. I don't think I can do this." 

"The Sultan disagrees." Heero looked up from where he was leaning against the wall, quietly observing the conversation. "He thinks you are the right person for the job." 

Trowa snorted and began to pace. "He also thinks I'm an honest young man." He walked across the room to come to a stop in front of Duo. "What if something happens and I make a mistake? What if I need help? The only reason I've gotten this far is because of you and Heero. Because of what you've made me into." 

Duo shook his head. "You can do this, Tro. Have some faith." 

Trowa shook his head, resuming his pacing. "The only thing I have is a genie." He stopped and turned to face Duo, the look on his face apologetic. "I'm sorry, Duo. But what if something happens and I need that wish?" 

Duo's eyes dropped and his face lost its usual grin. "I understand. I don't why I'm even surprised. You've lied to everyone else, /Master/." Without meeting Trowa's eyes he dissipated into a cloud of black smoke and disappeared down the spout of the lamp. 

"Duo… " He turned to Heero, looking for support and understanding. "I'm sorry, Heero. I really am. You understand don't you? This is for Quatre." 

Heero's eyes were icy and he nodded abruptly. "Yes, /I/ would never ask /you/ to give up someone that you love." He turned on his heel and strode out of the room without looking back. 

"I…" Trowa glared at the door way and then back at the lamp sitting on his bed. "I will not give up Quatre for anyone." With that, he picked up the lamp and threw it so it landed half buried in a pile of pillows, before storming out to find his fiancé. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tsuberov slunk down the hallway on the look out for guards that might be lurking about. When he reached the door to Trowa's apartments, he put his ear to it, listening for any sound that might indicate the street rat was in residence. Hearing nothing, he eased open the door and looked around before slipping in and shutting it behind him. 

Quickly and efficiently, he searched the room before spotting the lamp where it lay sticking out from underneath a pillow made of dark blue silk. He pulled it out, relishing the feel of it in his hands. This just proved that boy was a fool. To leave something like this unguarded was the height of stupidity. He rubbed the lamp, but nothing happened. Frowning, he rubbed it again, this time with more force and was rewarded with a lazy cloud of black smoke that slowly came together in the shape of a frowning young man. 

"Look, I got nothing to sa…" He trailed off, staring at Tsuberov with a raised eyebrow and a look of disbelief. "You aren't Tro." 

Tsuberov sneered; grabbing Duo mid braid, he quickly wrapped the hair around his hand several times. "You have a new master now." He jerked the braid, pulling Duo's head back to emphasize his words. 

Duo flinched and arched his back to relieve some of the strain on his neck. "Yeah, I was afraid of that."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Trowa wasn't surprised when he found himself in the throne room. When the Sultan was not holding court it was the quietest room in the palace. Who was he kidding? He didn't have what it took to be the royal vizier or even a husband. Quatre deserved someone who would stand at this side as his equal. Someone who was honest and trustworthy not only in their dealings with him, but with the Sultan and Agraba as well. There was really only one thing to do. He had to tell Quatre the truth and he had to set Duo free. In time Quatre would get over him and find someone else to marry. Someone who was all the things he deserved. 

"Trowa!" Quatre hurried across the room and grabbed his hand. I've been looking all over for you. Father is making his announcement." 

Trowa smiled nervously. "I need to speak to you, Quatre." He paused. "Announcement?" 

Quatre nodded, grinning widely. He walked towards the door on the opposite wall, pulling Trowa after him. "He is announcing our engagement and your appointment as royal vizier." 

There was a roar and Trowa found himself standing on a balcony that overlooked Agraba. Below him was a crowd that spread out as far as he could see, a crowd that was enthusiastically chanting his name. Trowa waved nervously and began to edge back only to be stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder. "They love you, son." The Sultan squeezed before letting go yelling to the crowd that in one month's time his son would be wed which caused more cheers to fill the air. 

There was a roll of thunder and the blue sky began to fill with ominous looking black clouds. The palace started to shake as the Sultan's robes, his uniform of office, disappeared in a cloud of smoke, leaving him dressed only in his underclothes. A cackle of laughter was heard over the noise and Tsuberov appeared in the Sultan's robes, standing at the far end of the balcony. 

The wind quickened, tearing the top off the balcony and sending the townspeople running for cover. Again, Tsuberov laughed. "I am now the ruler of Agraba and you will bow before me." 

Trowa stepped forward. "I don't think so." He reached into his pocket for the lamp, having forgotten that he'd left it in his apartments. "DUO!" he yelled, knowing that even if the genie was angry with him he would not allow the household to be terrorized. 

Tsuberov chortled and held out the lamp between his fingers. "Looking for this, boy? Finders keepers." 

A huge shadow separated itself from the palace walls and Duo looked down on them sadly. He towered over the palace, black wings that looked like those of a bat had sprouted from his back and his movements were mechanical and stilted. "Sorry, Tro. Gotta listen to my new master." He bent and scooped up the palace, moving it to the top of a nearby mountain where it would look down on the town. 

"Now" Tsuberov sneered at the Sultan and Quatre. "You will bow before me." 

"NEVER!" The response was immediate and in unison. 

"Then you shall cower before me! Genie, I wish to be the most powerful sorcerer in the world." 

Duo nodded and a purple light surrounded Tsuberov. It pulsed and his robes turned from those of the Sultan to those worn only by the mages. In a second the light was gone and Tsuberov stood before them, newly repaired staff in hand. "You will bow before me." Light shot out of the end of the staff and surrounded Quatre and the Sultan and, against their will, they knelt and leaned forward in a bow.

From behind Tsuberov there was a low growl and Wufei sprang out, Chinese broadsword in hand. "Release them." When Tsuberov snorted, Wufei circled slowly before attacking. Again, light shot from the end of the staff and when Wufei hit the ground he was a babe in diapers, barely able to crawl. 

Trowa moved closer, hoping to steal the lamp while Wufei had Tsuberov distracted, but with the bodyguard effectively dispatched Tsuberov pointed his staff at Trowa freezing him in place. Smiling evilly, he used his control to move Trowa and Quatre until they were facing each other. "I think introductions are in order." Trowa felt his lush robes becoming harsher, the material dulling and shrinking until he was wearing his usual vest and patched pants. The prince frowned, recognition darkening his eyes. "You see Prince Quatre, your beloved here is none other than a filthy street rat." 

"I'm so sorry, Quatre." Trowa's eyes were downcast, unable to meet Quatre's, shame burning on his cheeks. "I was going to tell you. I…" He shook his head; unable to find the words to tell Quatre that he wanted to be with him so much he was willing to become a completely different person if that was what it took.

Tsuberov reached out and patted Trowa's cheek roughly. "You played your part well, boy, but I have no further need of you." He raised his staff and a whirlwind encased Trowa, some how pulling Heero in with it, and transported them up through a keyhole window into one of the towers. Unseen by Tsuberov, carpet followed, slipping in after them. "To the ends of the Earth with you." The bottom of the tower began to glow and then shake. It lifted off from the ground as if it was a rocket and quickly accelerating disappeared into the stormy sky. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

The tower hit the snow bank and toppled over, rolling to a stop within sight of the edge of the sheer cliff it had landed on. Trowa jumped from the window and looked around wildly for any sign of Heero. This was his fault. If he had freed Duo like he'd promised none of this would have happened. He finally spotted Heero's messy brown hair partially buried in a pile of snow. He bolted to where Heero was and began to dig wildly, as panic seized him. If anything happened to his friend he'd never forgive himself. 

A few minutes later, with fingers that were so cold he felt as if they would fall off, Trowa offered Heero a hand and helped as the boy levered himself up off the ground. Heero's teeth were chattering and he wrapped his arms around himself, trying to keep warm. 

They walked towards the tower, hoping to put it between them and the wind. Crouching down beside the still warm stone, Trowa's foot touched something slick and he looked down. Underneath it was the carpet. He nudged Heero and they grinned at each other. Each one took a corner and pulled, but it was no use. Carpet was stuck tight, trapped by the tons of stone that rested half on it. 

Heero frowned then moved closer, beginning to dig around and under Carpet in an attempted to free it. Trowa grinned and moved to the other side mimicking Heero's actions as he scraped at the snow. If they could get carpet loose they could go back to Agraba and rescue Quatre and the Sultan. If Trowa knew Quatre was safe and Tsuberov no longer a threat, he could accept what ever happened afterwards. 

Above them, the tower shifted forward slightly, sliding on the slick snow. Both boys backed away, stumbling to their feet when there was some space between them and structure. Horrified they watched as it shifted forward a little more then began to roll slowly towards them. 

Heero grabbed Trowa's arm and began to drag him down the slope, heading for the edge of the cliff. Trowa shook off Heero's hand, studying the tower as it rolled ever closer. He frowned, then towing Heero behind him, ran forward towards it. Without warning, he shoved Heero to the ground and threw himself on top. Holding his breath as the tower passed over them, the shape of the window impressed in the fresh snow around their bodies. 

Now free, Carpet floated in the air next to them, shaking snow from its tassels. Trowa climbed to his feet before offering a hand to help Heero to his. They scrambled onto the carpet, once again thanking Allah for its timely intervention. Time to go back to Agraba and fix this mess he'd created.


	5. Chapter 5

The throne room of the palace was bathed in an eerie red light that did nothing to help Quatre's state of mind. His father was dressed in a jester's outfit and danced at the whim of the marionette strings attached to his arms and legs. His best friend and bodyguard was trapped in an enclosure made of priceless metal vases, chewing happily on a coin and tugging on one of the pins that held his diaper in place. Duo sat, head in hands on a pile of treasure, waiting mournfully for Tsuberov to make his last wish.

Quatre felt a tug on the chain that held his hands in place in front of him and looked up to glower at the man seated on his father's throne. He tried to back away, but the chain secured to the manacle around his ankle stopped him. He could feel his will draining away as the eyes on Tsuberov's staff began to glow. Despite his efforts to fight the effects of the mind control, he jerked forward, picking up an apple and holding it out two handed for Tsuberov to take a bite. 

Tsuberov chewed his apple slowly, an evil smile spreading over his face. "It pains me to see you reduced to this, Quatre. You're a handsome young man and you should be at the side of a powerful man. One who would treat you as you deserved." 

Recoiling from Tsuberov's touch, Quatre snarled at him. "I would never marry you. You just want to be given legitimacy and I would not ever do that to Agraba.!" 

"I'll teach you some manners and respect for your betters, boy!" Tsuberov yanked on the chain drawing Quatre closer then backhanded him across the face, sending him flying to lie in a crumpled heap.

Not taking his eyes of Quatre, Tsuberov called out. "Genie, I've decided what I want for my third wish. I wish for Prince Quatre to fall passionately in love with me. " 

Quatre's eyes widened and a sickening chill of pure disgust ran through him. In slow motion he watched as Duo looked up and frowned before getting up and walking towards Tsuberov. Oh, Allah, please, he thought. No. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Trowa crouched down and slipped unseen into the throne room. He slunk forward, hiding behind a pile of treasure, and then pausing for the count of ten to make sure he was not observed. 

"Genie, I've decided what I want for my third wish. I wish for Prince Quatre to fall passionately in love with me." Tsuberov's voice had an ugly edge of venom in it that made Trowa shiver in response.

"Master" Duo's voice was low and soothing. "There are some exemptions to the wishes you can ask for." 

Trowa cringed as Tsuberov used Duo's braid to yank his head back yet again, forcing him to his knees. "I am your master and you will do as I say!" Next to him Heero froze, his eyes fixed on the scene in front of him, a deadly glare transforming his features. Trowa squeezed his arm quickly then moved forward, keeping out of Tsuberov's view. 

He slipped behind the throne, carefully rising up and to catch Quatre's eye, pleased to see the surprise and relief that danced across the prince's features. Trowa mouthed 'distract him' and Quatre nodded almost imperceptibly in acknowledgement. 

With slow careful movements, Trowa snuck closer to where the lamp was sitting unwatched on a small table not too far from the throne. He tried not to react when Quatre rose from where he was lying on the floor and walked towards Tsuberov. There was an extra sway to his hips and his lips were slightly parted in invitation. "I never realized how strong and powerful you were before." He paused in front of Tsuberov and looked down demurely. "A naughty willful prince needs someone who will put him in his place." 

Eyes fixated on where Quatre's hand was running up and down Tsuberov's arm, Trowa froze, the lamp forgotten. Quatre curled an arm around Tsuberov's neck and gestured to the small table reminding him of his mission. Red faced with embarrassment and something that felt strangely like jealousy Trowa started moving again.

Behind him there was a clatter as Heero's arm brushed against one of the piles of treasure, dislodging a cup. Tsuberov frowned and started to turn his head, but Quatre reacted quickly, cupping the sorcerer's face in his hands and kissing him deeply.

Trowa's jaw dropped and he glowered at the scene in front of him. Determined not to let this continue, he moved forward again, reaching for the lamp that was just out of range of his fingertips. 

"That is more how I expect you to behave." Tsuberov smirked as the kiss broke. "You will be rewarded…" Movement caught his eye and he spotted Trowa's reflection in a large golden cup in front of him. Snarling he pushed Quatre aside and spun on his heel. A bolt from his staff caught Trowa in the chest, sending him flying. "How many times do I have to kill you, boy?" 

Quatre rushed forward, grabbing the staff and attempting to wrench it from Tsuberov's grip. The sorcerer used the staff as bar and shoved forward, throwing Quatre off balance and onto the floor. 

"Get the lamp!" Trowa rushed forward, grabbing for Tsuberov's staff as he did. Again Tsuberov used his staff to deflect the attack and to knock him off his feet as he had Quatre. From where he landed on the floor Trowa launched himself at Tsuberov, locking his arms around the man's knees and throwing him off balance so he fell, the impact knocking his staff from his hand to roll just out of his reach. 

Leaping up, Quatre made a dash for the lamp, grabbing it and running. Tsuberov pushed Trowa and made a grab for his staff, managing to get his hand on it when Quatre was half way across the room. "Your time is up Prince." A bolt of white light encased the prince, lifting him in the air. He came down with a thump, trapped in the bottom section of an hourglass. Sand began to pour down on his head and his eyes met Trowa's for a split second, fear visible in their depths. Next to the hourglass, the lamp clattered to the floor. 

Heero leaped out of hiding, running to capture the lamp. It was in his grasp when he was hit by a blast from Tsuberov's staff. The lamp slipped from his fingers and he tumbled over to lay glassy eyed and staring at the ceiling. Before it could hit the ground, the carpet swooped in and snatched it up with one of his tassels. Another blast and carpet began to unravel until it was nothing more than some colored thread and four tassels that floated to the ground.

Trowa made a dash for the lamp, but before he could reach it swords rained down from the sky landing point down to surround it. He threw himself onto his stomach, reaching between the blades but Tsuberov plucked the lamp from the ground before he could touch it. Growling in frustration, Trowa grabbed the handle of the nearest weapon and yanked, pulling it from the ground. 

Tsuberov shook his head and laughed as Trowa charged him, weapon at the ready. The sword in his hand morphed into a broadsword and he brought it up to parry Trowa's blow. He thrust and Trowa dodged to the side, giving ground as he did so. 

From the corner of his eye Trowa could the sand raining down faster; already it was up to Quatre's waist. He leaped to the side, dodging a blow and raised his sword, hoping to shatter the glass of the bulb that Quatre was trapped in. The blade of Tsuberov's sword grew and he easily parried the strike. Trowa thrust again; this time his shorter blade easily slipped under Tsuberov's guard. He sliced the man's robes and his sword left a shallow cut in its wake. 

Tsuberov howled and his sword changed shape back into a staff. It shot out a beam of light that lifted Trowa into the air and pinned him, hanging against the wall. "Did you really think a street rat like you could defeat me, the most powerful man in the world? Without the genie you are nothing, but dirt beneath my feet, boy." 

Trowa's eyes went to Quatre, swallowing nervously at the way Quatre's head was tilted back to keep his nose and mouth above the rapidly rising sand. Tsuberov was right. Without the genie Trowa was nothing. If he had Duo he could… Inspiration struck and he smirked at Tsuberov. "Duo is more powerful than you are. He gave you everything you have and he could take it away." 

Tsuberov's eyes glittered and he laughed loudly. "Of course! Genie I wish to make my last wish. I wish for you to make me a genie." 

Duo looked from Tsuberov to Trowa and back again. Muttering 'this is so not cool' under his breath, he nodded his head. Almost immediately Tsuberov began to grow, stretching up and out. Distracted, he released his hold on Trowa who dropped to the floor. Grabbing his sword, Trowa raced for the hourglass, no longer able to see Quatre at all. He shattered the glass with a single stroke, trying not to give into the panic he was feeling. Sand rushed out, covering the floor and he pulled Quatre free, holding his breath until the prince's eyes fluttered open. 

Dimly he was aware as Tsuberov gloated over his newfound powers, his voice white noise in the background. When Trowa was sure Quatre was going to be okay he tilted his head back, looking up at the new genie. "You wanted to be a genie. You got it and the lack of freedom that goes along with it." There was a sound like a crash of thunder and a glossy black lamp appeared on the ground. Metal wristbands that marked Tsuberov as a servant of the lamp, clamped onto each of his arms simultaneously. 

"Noooooooooo!" Tsuberov screamed as he began to dissipate, sucked into the lamp that now claimed him as its servant. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

The dark clouds that hung over Agraba had dissipated quickly with the removal of Tsuberov, leaving bright sunny skies. Everywhere in the palace, except the apartments of Prince Quatre where the prince and his companions had retreated to, smiles had returned as if nothing unusual had occurred. 

"I'm sorry I lied to you, Quatre." Trowa reached for Quatre's hand and stroked it lightly. 

Quatre smiled sadly. "I understand why you did. That law is ridiculous."

Trowa nodded, "I know, but the law is the law." He looked down, not able to look at Quatre, knowing the pain he would see on his face. "I guess this is goodbye then." 

Duo's eyes met Heero's and he winched. Even though he had been acting under orders from Tsuberov and had set things to right once he was no longer under his control, there was still a lingering sense of guilt for what he had done. He leaned forward and kissed Heero softly before whispering, "I'm sorry, but I have to do this." He bounced up from the bed and pasted on a smile. Walking over to Trowa, he threw an arm around the boy's shoulders. "You still have one wish left, buddy. You can be a prince again." 

Trowa shook his head, "No, I need to stop trying to be something that I'm not. Besides, I promised you your freedom and I am not going back on that promise this time. I've learned my lesson." 

Duo tugged on his braid, frowning. "But this is for Quatre. For love. It's why you've done everything you've done. It's easy enough. Just say the words." He winked at Quatre and then at Trowa. "He's worth it, remember?" 

Trowa cleared his throat and looking at Quatre he spoke. "I wish for Duo to be free." 

Duo grinned, "Alright, buddy lets make some…" His voice trailed off. "What did you say?" 

"I wish for you to be free." 

The lamp rose out of Trowa's hands and floated to the ground. It sat for a moment before falling over onto its side with a hollow thunk. The metal wristbands snapped open and hung in the air over where the lamp lay. There was a flash of white light and all three disappeared. 

Duo wrapped his arms around Trowa's neck and hugged him tightly before rushing across the room to plop back down beside Heero. "Make a wish," he demanded. "Anything, wish for anything. Wish for a giant robot you can fly." 

Trowa raised an eyebrow and grinned, amused by Duo's antics. "I wish for a giant robot you can fly." 

"Too bad." Duo laughed and shook his head. With a grin he launched himself at Heero, pushing him down on the bed. "You can have this instead." His lips captured Heero's and they shared their first kiss. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

The six young people stood lined up in front of the Sultan's throne trying not to shift nervously. Wufei could understand why the Sultan might have summoned his son and Trowa to his presence but to include him, Iria, Heero and Duo made no sense. The only thing he could think of was that they were to be punished for their parts in the recent disaster with the royal vizier. 

"In light of recent events I have begun to reconsider what exactly it is that makes a man worthy of a position within this court." The sultan paused and Wufei felt his eyes pass over him as he looked at each one of them in turn. "Birth seems to hold no bearing on the qualities that make a good leader; things such as honor, honesty, compassion and loyalty. This is what counts, not parentage or the ability to bring lands and title to the position." The sultan paused, reaching for a scroll that sat on the arm of his throne. "Because of this I have made a decision. One that will concern you all." 

Wufei eyes flicked to side, trying to catch a glimpse of Iria, to see if she was as nervous as he was, but she was just out of the range of his peripheral vision. 

The Sultan unrolled the scroll that had sat, unnoticed on his lap, and began to read. "From this day forth by decree of his royal highness Sultan Winner it shall be that all pervious laws on the subject of marriage for the princes and princess of the house of Winner should be repealed. In their stead shall stand one law. The princes and princesses shall marry whom ever he or she deems worthy." 

"I choose Trowa." Quatre's voice rang out clearly almost as soon as the last word had fallen from the Sultan's lips. 

"And you, Iria?" The smile in the Sultan's voice matched the one on his lips. 

"If he will have me, I choose Chang Wufei of the Dragon Clan." 

Wufei felt a hand slip into his and he turned toward Princess Iria, surprise and hope fighting for position in his heart. "I would be honored to be your husband." He smiled knowing he looked the fool, but for once not caring.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

The stars twinkled brightly as one by one they became visible over Agraba and the desert that surrounded it. Above the palace, and drifting slowly, was a flying carpet that held six people. There was no urgency in its flight this time, not like when it had brought Trowa and Heero back from the ends of the Earth. No, this was a lazy ride, one strictly for the pleasure of the passengers. Three heads rested on the shoulder of the person next to them, comfortable and happy. The carpet dipped and turned causing the people on the right side to tilt closer to their partner. 

Off towards the horizon there was a soft glow where the moon was beginning to make an appearance, lightening the night. This was the moment that dreams were made of, the one that dreamers lived their lives for. The time when, at least for six young people in the kingdom of Agraba, that happily ever after really does come true.


End file.
